Picture Perfect World
by GoujuShouri
Summary: In a perfect world, ruled by a select group of people, one person decides to lead the greatest revolution of mankind. But what happens when the one person he wants to hold as close as possible turns out to be the one he should push the farthest away?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Well, I guess I'll begin with the usual 'this is my first fanfiction so please be gentle' stuff. I've written two fanfics years and years ago in the Naruto universe and for some reason I don't have the heart to delete them. This is my first fic in Hetaverse though. I love Hetalia and, frankly, I'm obsessed with USUK or at least very close to that. Also, I'm not a native speaker, so my writing may be kind of strange at some places. If that happens, please feel free to correct me. I think I'll stop ranting about myself now.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Axis Power Hetalia or any of its characters. Also, the basic ideas of the plot was inspired by a roleplay forum I'm on, which was inspired by 1984 by George Orwell.

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><p>Perfection.<p>

The unreachable ideal, the one thing humankind has always been searching for. Philosophers from the Ancient Times wondered if it even existed and if it did, what was it exactly? Poets and writers had been trying to achieve it through complicated stanzas and rhymes, through similes, metaphors, and colourful portrayals. Musicians, actors, script-writers, directors had been trying to enchant the audience with fleeting promises of perfection, of the greatest and farthest goal of mankind. Scientists had denied the existence of such thing; nothing and nobody was perfect, perfection as humans imagined it was subjective, true perfection did not, could not exist.

Until now. Nobody knows what happened, how it happened, but a hundred years after the Mayan calendar's end, society became completely different. Somewhere, sometime after the supposed end of the world, governments disappeared. Gone were the presidents, prime ministers, kings, and queens. They disappeared without a trace, almost as if time itself decided to erase them from the world. However, as history has shown us on numerous occasions, mankind cannot exist without someone or something guiding it. Maybe it is in our nature to obey someone, maybe we simply cannot exist peacefully without being told what to, or rather, what not to do, we may never know. Before the world could fall into the clutches of anarchy, as it was bound to happen without a firm ruler, a select group of people rose to the top of society and acquired power over the people. Once again, no one knows how or why they did it, but they reformed the system drastically. They did not commit genocide as most parties did after rising to power in such a confused and wild society. They enacted Laws and expected everyone to uphold them. And, for what very well may be the first time in history, the people did. Not one person complained about the strict Laws, no one tried to rebel or take the power from this group. The world accepted the change and peace returned.

This group called themselves the Elite. They were people born or married into their status, sworn to uphold the Laws, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, as their name implies, becoming an Elite was the privilege of an extremely small group of select people. Such a group could never hope to become the most powerful leaders of written history. To make sure the Laws would never be broken, the Elite founded a secret organization. Its members blended in with society, living their everyday lives inconspicuously amongst the ordinary people. They had a right that no other member of a society could claim: they were allowed to kill. If a person broke or attempted to break the Laws, a member of this secret organization was sent to take care of them. This procedure was called 'removing' or 'removal'. The person's very existence; the memories their friends and family had of them, their personal belongings, everything disappeared. Thus, the Laws had never been broken.

This organization was called The Police. Since the Laws were never broken as far as the public knows, there was no need for criminal justice. It was because of that that all previous police stations, private agencies, and even such important bodies as FBI, CIA, MI6, and so on were disbanded. This hidden Police did not have a base or a building for itself; it would have been too suspicious. The members were allowed to use hidden training grounds as practice areas. They got their orders via e-mail, never meeting their superiors, the Elite. The identity of a Police member was a secret from everyone, excluding the Elite. Not even the members knew of each other's identities.

The Ordinary was a title commonly used by the Elite and the Police. It wasn't a derogatory term, nor did it have a pejorative meaning. It was a simple term to use while referring to people who had no idea the Police existed and believed with all their might that the Elite was all-powerful and unquestionable. They lived their lives dictated by the Laws, never daring to even think about breaking it. They did the job assigned to them by the Elite, they got paid by the Elite and they praised the Elite.

The last group of society originated among the Ordinary. They were called Aware. The Aware were people who somehow found about the existence of the Police and could see the world for what it was. Aware were usually people smart enough to keep their knowledge a secret in order to avoid being removed. Knowing about the Police was dangerous after all. Secrets had to be protected at all cost. And a human life was not a large one.

Thanks to the lack of crime and the smooth workings of society, the Elite deemed the world perfect. And to protect this perfection, the Elite enacted various strict laws. Some laws did not differ from the laws of the old world. Killing, stealing, such offenses like that were still considered illegal; the Police were excluded, of course, when it came to removing lawbreakers. The most important were the three main beliefs, the highest law, which were to be obeyed by everyone; even the Elite.

_The laws are never broken.  
>The Elite are all powerful.<br>The world is perfect._

Thanks to the Elite and their expertly hidden lapdogs, no one had to live in fear anymore. Everyone was perfectly equal, no one was better than another. Gone were the social hierarchies based on money, power, and the ability to cheat, steal and lie. People got a certain amount of money based on the number of mouths they had to feed. No one was unemployed; the Elite gave everyone job and shelter. No more wars, conflicts, rebellions. No more pain. The world became perfect.

The center of the Perfect World was placed in New York City, in the United States. Although it had always been a city of great importance, New York City used to be full of crime, corruption and danger. But after the reforms, New York became the world's safest city, thanks to the large number of Police stationed there to protect and follow the Elite's orders. While most rulers loved the fame and wanted to show themselves to the public as often as they could, these people opted to hide instead, never showing their face and keeping their identities as parts of the world's supreme ruling force. Everyone knew they existed, everyone worshipped and loved them, but no one knew who they were and what they did.

And no one ever, ever asked.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

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><p>Darkness has always been a source of fear and awe for humans. The lack of light, lack of sight, was both terrifying and thrilling for the more adventurous individuals. The night had inspired many poets and writers, musicians and actors to recreate the feeling of the most mysterious time of the day.<p>

However, in the previous, imperfect world, the night had also been the perfect thing to hide shady dealings and secret plots against the rulers of society. Perhaps its purpose was to prevent such dangerous things, perhaps the Elite merely wanted to test the extent of their control, no one will ever know, but they enacted a law completely unheard of in the imperfect world: The Curfew. As the name suggests, the law worked in a similar way to strict parents forbidding their adolescent children from staying out too late.

Since midnight was always considered magical, the Elite chose it to be the Curfew. If one stayed out after midnight, they were removed on spot by one of the patrolling members of Police; the Curfew not applying to them being another one of their 'privileges'.

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><p>Heartbreak was painful. It made you suffer. It made you go through so much pain. It made you believe that nothing could be perfect; especially not the whole world. It made you question what the point of all these Laws was. It made you wonder what was point in living in a supposedly perfect world, when that one person you want didn't want you.<p>

Heartbreak also made you do stupid things. It made a certain man do the stupidest thing imaginable. It made him break a Law. Funny how he couldn't bring himself to care. There he was, strolling through the park hours after the curfew, without even an ounce of fear. Why would he feel scared? There was no crime, no danger, and there was no one who would come outside at this hour. Maybe that's why they said no one ever broke the Law; people broke the Law all the time, they just weren't found out.

He looked around the silent park, the sound of the wind blowing being the only thing to break the utter stillness of the night. That, and a strange, but pretty familiar sound.

To his surprise, the park wasn't nearly as deserted as he had originally thought. There was another person, a male from what he could see, sitting on one of the swings, rocking himself back and forth slowly. So that was the familiar sound. What was he doing here? Why was he breaking the Law? Was he starting to see that there was no point in following a Law like this?Or was he just as heartbroken as he himself was?

"Hey." He could see the other stiffen at his greeting. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He walked closer to the swing, trying to peek at the stranger's downcast face. Who was he? What was he doing outside? Did he not know of the Law? Did he not care? Those were the questions constantly swirling in his head, his grief momentarily forgotten, replaced by curiosity.

Suddenly, the stranger's head snapped up, making him cringe in surprise, followed by a quick gasp. The stranger was young, probably in his senior year in high school. And he had the bluest eyes he had ever seen; they almost seemed to glow in the dimly lit park.

But what truly shocked him wasn't the color of the boy's eyes. It was the unnatural blankness of them. They seemed frozen and solid, just like the thickest of ice, with a faint glow of something, regret? guilt?, shining in them. The expression was entirely unfitting of such a young face.

"Boy, are y-" He began, only to be cut off by a soft murmur. "I'm sorry."

He opened his mouth to question they boy, but suddenly he was faced with an object he had only seen in video games years and years ago. A gun. He stared at the youngster with disbelief written all over his face. What the hell was going on? "What ar-" And then there was icy blue, a soft click, and black.

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><p>"JONES!"<p>

Alfred jumped at the sudden shout, falling on the floor gracelessly, his classmates quietly snickering at him. He looked around blearily, wondering who could have called his name and roused him from his nap. And what was everyone laughing at? He wanted to hear the joke too!

He furrowed his brows and stood up, looking around for the source of everyone's amusement. Why were they staring at him? God, he hoped he didn't snore or something like that. That would be totally uncool.

"Jones, sit back down!" Oh. He looked over at his red-faced professor, figuring he might be a tad bit annoyed with him for falling asleep in his class. He sent the older man his best apologetic smile and sat down, quickly wiping off the small puddle of saliva on his notes. The professor just sighed and went back to teaching, forgoing the lecture he would have given were it any other student falling asleep. That wasn't to say Jones was better than the others; no, everyone was equal, the Laws stated so. Playing favorites would be going against the Law. Still, the professor had a soft spot for Alfred F. Jones. The boy had a charming personality and, to top it off, he was a brilliant boy. How he managed to ace all his tests and exams without paying attention in class most of the time was beyond him.

Alfred grinned at the back of his professor, knowing that he was forgiven. He always was. And it's not like he meant to fall asleep in class. Night shifts three times in a row did that to a person.

He glanced up at the blackboard, quickly memorizing the molecules drawn there. Then, deciding he did more than enough work for class that day, he looked through the window, staring at the orange and brown park in the distance. He bit his lip lightly, guilt washing over him in waves. No matter how many times he did it, removing someone never got any easier.

He chuckled inwardly. Just imagine the faces of people who knew him if they discovered that he was a member of the organization responsible solely for killing lawbreakers. Okay, they would probably be more shocked at the Police existing than Alfred being a member of it. Still, the idea of Mr. Popular being a ruthless murderer was a ridiculous one, even to him. But it was true. It was in his blood, after all.

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><p>Alfred was born in Jamestown, Virginia. When he was two, his parents obtained permission from the Elite and moved up to New York City. He had lived here ever since. His mother disappeared sometime after they moved to New York. He had no idea when, but it must have been pretty early on, seeing that he had no memories of her. And he didn't miss her either. If he didn't know that everyone had to have a mom, he would have thought she never even existed.<p>

His childhood wasn't a special one. He went to school, played, watched TV, ate, and slept, just like every other child in New York, possibly the world. His life wasn't extraordinary; no one's was. He had many friends and he was adored by everyone, students and teachers alike. He was a cheerful, overly active, and bright boy, the pride and joy of his father. And Alfred loved his father dearly in return.

After a while, Alfred started realizing that there was something strange going on with his father. George was a fire fighter, which meant he could be called in to work anytime. His son adored that about him; he thought his father was a hero, just like in those old comic books he had once found. But when his father started disappearing in the middle of the night, going outside even after the curfew, Alfred was becoming suspicious. Why would his daddy break the Law? Only bad people did that and his daddy wasn't one.

Being too curious for his own good, Alfred decided to follow his dad one day, breaking the law for the first time in his life. It almost served as an end to it. He was wandering the dark streets alone, shivering from the cold and out of fear, but determined to find his dad. He was just turning a corner when he was grabbed by someone and turned around violently. He looked into the eyes of his captor, terrified. The man then lifted something strange, a pipe with a handle or something. In spite of his fear, the child couldn't help wondering what that thing was and if he could try it out. He asked the man, which earned him a slap in return. He was shocked. Hurting others was against the Law.

The man slowly raised his strange thingy and pointed it at Alfred's face. He could see the man pulling a piece of metal or something with his finger and he wondered what he was doing. Next thing he knew, he was in the arms of his father, a hole in the wall he had been pushed up against. His daddy said something too quietly for him to hear and brought him back home. To this day, Alfred has no idea what his dad could have said that saved his life.

Once they were home, he was slapped by his father for the first time and then hugged so fiercely he couldn't breathe. He asked his father what happened, what was going on, who was that person and what was that thing which made the hole in the wall. He was grounded for three weeks after that and he didn't get his answers.

He was a sophomore in high school when he finally discovered the truth. By then, his father was already battling cancer, a disease they still had no cure for. He never told Alfred about it, but he was sneaky enough to go through his hospital records. When he confronted his father about it, he was just shooed off. George told him that it was just the price he had to pay for his crimes. Alfred didn't understand and he didn't expect him to.

This made the sophomore even more determined to uncover his father's secret. In a few months, the answers projected themselves in the form of a letter. Written by George J. Jones. The letter told him everything he needed to know. His father's true occupation, the reason he couldn't remember his mother, the hidden world beneath all the pretended perfection.

And the hidden cameras. Those tiny little things, built in every apartment, house, shop, park, library, and so on. Cameras were everywhere. A single, yet effective way for the Elite to discover crimes and send the Police after the lawbreakers. _There were cameras in their house._ Alfred realized that with horror. Which meant he knew about the Police and the Elite knew he knew about the Police.

He was sure he would die. Instead, all he got was a message on his phone. _'You have received the honor of having an opportunity to join the Police in their work to help to keep the world perfect. Please consider this offer carefully. If you do not agree, we shall proceed accordingly.'_

Which was a pompous way of saying 'join or die'. He didn't even think twice of his decision. He merely nodded and said "Join." in a clear voice. He had to join in order to avenge his mother. He couldn't die just like that.

His father came in right in that moment. Alfred had never seen his normally calm and collected father look so horrified and broken before. George just stared at his son, his only loved one still alive, and mouthed "What have you done?" over and over again. He grabbed his son by the shoulders and shook him. "Alfred, what have you done? You've just sold your soul! Son, you can't believe in the Elite! Don't follow them mindlessly! They aren't Gods, they aren't all powerful, and they are definitely not the savior of our world!"

As soon as the words were uttered, Alfred could feel the phone in his pocket vibrate again. He took it out, in a semi-shock at his father words. He denied the main beliefs. _The main beliefs._ He looked down to see the new message from an unknown number. He went deathly pale, the urge to vomit rising inside him. _They told him to kill his father. They told him to **kill his father**._ He felt a calloused hand take his own softer ones and place something cold and heavy in it. He stared at his father speechlessly, his astonishment met with a kind smile. "Learn to use it wisely, son." His father held Alfred's hand in his own and raised the gun, pointing it at his own forehead. He sent him one last smile, a whispered "I love you.", and put Alfred's thumb on the trigger. They pulled it together.

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><p>The Alfred in the present shook his head fiercely, banishing the picture of his father's falling body and the sound of his own distressed cries from his mind. After his father's death, Alfred was called in to the Elite building and, after proving himself loyal to the Elite, he became a member of the Police officially. He was surprised at the simpleness of it all. He had always been a very bad actor and an even worse liar. <em>'The things one could learn from the Elite.<em>' He thought sarcastically.

He leaned back in his seat and looked up at the sky, or as much he could see from it not obscured by the window. It was just a question of time, he thought. Sooner or later he would free humanity from the clutches of the Elite and help people feel true freedom at last. And in the process, he would have his revenge. Even if it cost him his life.

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><p><strong>AN:** So, this chapter was basically about Alfred's history and a small slice of his everyday life. I know it's not very interesting, but I wanted to provide the background and reasoning of his plan of overthrowing the Elite.

Thank you for the reviews, they seriously made me blush:) I'm glad you liked the first chapter, I hope you will like the future ones too.


	3. Chapter 3

Angelique Wilson considered her life almost perfect. She lived in a perfect world, had two loving fathers, a nice house, and an aquarium, filled with exotic tropical fishes of all kind. The only thing she didn't find perfect in her life was her job. Don't get her wrong, she was thankful to the Elite for giving her one, instead of forcing her to choose her own career. She shuddered at the thought. Oh no, she was fine with the job they had given her. All she had to do was organize papers, connect phone calls, and tend to her boss's every wish. It was comfortable and not highly demanding. There was only one problem with it: her boss.

Angelique knew she was a brave girl. She didn't even cry when she broke her arm after falling off her bicycle! She wasn't scared of ghost stories! However, despite her braveness, her boss could scare her out of her wits. One would think she was scared because her boss was an Elite, a member of the group of people who made their world perfect. Such an important man could scare anyone. However, that wasn't the case. She respected her boss, that was true, but she didn't fear his power. Not at all.

"Good morning, Angelique." That soft, accented voice snapped her out of her musings, making her drop the papers in her arms with a small squeak. She quickly bent down to gather them, her face burning in embarrassment. _'Stupid, stupid!'_ She berated herself mentally. Seven months, seven months she had worked here, and she was still so easily startled by him! The flustered secretary turned around slowly, bowing her head in a mix of shame and respect. "Good morning, Mr. Kirkland. Please excuse my clumsiness, I promise it won't happen again!" What if he wanted to fire her? The documents necessary for such thing were in his office and he didn't even have to take three steps to find another Elite to get permission from! He could fire her in a minute! Or, or, he could fire her and make her work in a butchery! Oh no, she couldn't possibly kill an animal! No, impossible, never!

She was freaking out. She knew she was freaking out. What if Mr. Kirkland noticed it too? He really would fire her for being so useless! Angelique was close to crying now. Her parents would be so disappointed! Was disappointment a good enough reason to ask for permission to disown her? Would she have to move into a smaller apartment and live in loneliness for the rest of her life? Would she...

"Angelique." Her thoughts immediately came to a halt. Oh God, she was annoying Mr. Kirkland, wasn't she? Her boss rubbed his forehead, letting out a small sigh. "Angelique, please stop freezing and get me my tea."

Tea, right, tea. The one thing her boss couldn't live without. She bowed quickly and, with a whispered "Right away, sir.", left her desk and went to the small kitchen at the end of the hallway. After hearing the small tell-tale 'click' of the office's door closing, she hunched over. Her stupid brain almost got her in trouble again. She just couldn't help it; Mr. Kirkland seemed to bring out the worst in her.

He wasn't scary, per se. Outwardly, at least, he definitely wasn't. Mr. Kirkland was both young and handsome, if Angelique did say so herself. Although he had never told her his exact age, she was sure he couldn't have been older than 25. He had short, messy hair, almost gold in colour. Once, she caught him trying to comb his hair back for a meeting, glaring at the mirror when his hair went back to the way it always was. That day, his usually pale skin went pink in an instant when he caught her peeking. Oh, how she envied Mr. Kirkland's skin. It looked very smooth and she had never once seen a pimple appear on his handsome face. And his eyes, oh his eyes. They were green, greener than any other she had ever seen. Mostly cold and hard, just like one of those jewels she decorated her aquarium with, they rarely showed his inner thoughts or emotions.

There were only two imperfections on his face: his eyebrows. They were very thick and slightly darker in colour than his hair. Few people dared tease him about them, however. It took Angelique a few weeks before she could look her boss in the face without staring at those things. Eventually, she got used to his eyebrows and started seeing them as a cute little fault that did nothing to take away from his charm.

Alright, so she might have had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Mr. Kirkland. The man was cold, sarcastic and mean on his better days, and very temperamental. He was usually silent and a workaholic. But he was an Elite. And the Elite were good, the Elite were their saviors. Who could resist such a handsome man in such a wonderful position?

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><p>"You may leave now." He waited until the girl bowed and left the room in haste before taking a sip of his tea. It wasn't as good as the ones he made, but it would do. Brewing your own tea in this building was unthinkable. Another Elite could take that as a sign of lower position; Arthur had no intention of letting that happen.<p>

While it was true that everyone was equal, some were still just a bit more equal than others. And there was no way Arthur would be less equal than anyone.

He started up his laptop with a sigh, preparing for a day full of work. The week had been rough so far. For some reason, people started acting up and defying the Laws. Those fools. He had no idea what could have caused their dissatisfaction, nor did he care too much. They knew that the Laws should not be broken, but they did it anyway. Punishment was only a natural repercussion. Unfortunately, uprisings like those meant more work not only for the Police but for the Elite as well. They had to read over reports and such, immediately destroying the evidence of a job well or not so well done.

He glanced at the screen of his laptop, his eyes finding the bright red 'New message' notification first. Only 6? What a surprise. The first one was from an unfamiliar address. He frowned at it suspiciously. It couldn't have been a virus or 'spam' or whatever young people called junk mail, their filters took care of that. Maybe it was from a new Elite, trying to bug his colleagues? Wouldn't be the first time it happened.

He opened the mail anyway, figuring it might be something important. He regretted this decision the next moment. Only three people began their messages with 'Dear Brat'. That 'nickname' brought back memories he had no intention of reliving.

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><p>Arthur Kirkland was born 23 years ago in London, United Kingdom of Great Britain and North Ireland. He was the fourth child of Alice and Thomas Kirkland. His parents never wanted a fourth child; they were content with and proud of their first three. Unfortunately, not even two of London's Elite could control nature. All it took was a sudden flare of an already dying flame, a heated argument, and the unexpected accident occurred. Mrs. Kirkland didn't even ask for an official permission to get pregnant. The only thing that saved her life was her husband's position. They did get the permission, few weeks late though.<p>

9 months later, Arthur was born in a private hospital.

His childhood wasn't a happy one. His three older brothers hated the brat who stole their parents' attention from them; and they did everything they could to show it. Since the family was pretty big, and the parents were Elite to boot, they managed to get a pretty big house after deciding not to live in the Elite Building anymore. That house was akin to a torture chamber for Arthur. He was thrown into the pool by his eldest brother when Arthur was merely three. He had had a phobia of deep water ever since. He had also got locked into the basement and a small closet, been left outside in winter for the night, and got frequently beaten up before he grew tired of it all.

It was funny how hurting others was against the Law and yet, his brothers had no problem with torturing him. At that time, Arthur had no idea of the existence of cameras, thus he didn't understand why his brothers beat him up at home without a care for the Law and behaved like angels and nice big brothers on the streets.

When he was eight, his little brother, Peter, was born. Arthur wondered if that meant that his older brothers would leave him alone and torture their newest brother. An ugly and cowardly thought, but he was so tired of suffering. He vowed to never hurt his little brother, but he knew that if the eldest three tried to hurt him, Arthur wouldn't be able to stop them. And it annoyed him. Why did he have to be so powerless against them? Was it because he was younger? Or because he was so small and skinny? Or because he was alone?

His brothers never did hurt Peter. He was a whiny baby and, after learning how to talk, they would tell their Mom everything. Even things that never happened, like how Arthur was being a jerk to him and hurting him. Needless to say, the fourth Kirkland child never became fond of his little brother either.

He was lonely. He had four brothers who he hated and two parents who were much too busy to pay him any attention. At school, the shy and introverted little boy never made any friends. The loneliness and abuse he received all his life made him cold and uncaring. He was fifteen when his parents told him he would become an Elite in three years. He took the news quite well. He simply nodded and accepted his fate.

There were two Universities in England to choose from: the University of London and the University of Cumbria. He asked for permission to enter the one in Cumbria, but, much to his surprise, he was declined. It was very rare for an Elite to be declined. Other Elite simply accepted that their colleague wanted to do something and accepted, in hopes of permission being granted when they wanted something. Arthur was sure it was his brother's doing; they wouldn't want to lose their favorite punching bag, now would they?

Reluctantly, he enrolled into the University of London where he studied English Literature. Not that he enjoyed it. He loved reading, but the material provided... It was much too repetitive and boring for Arthur. He didn't want to read about the perfection of the world and the heroics of the Elite. But what else could writers write about?

He dropped out of University as soon as he was told to start working as an Elite. After securing connections with other Elites of London and various foreign cities, sometimes admittedly with less than moral actions, Arthur finally managed to obtain permission to escape the British Isles and his family. He was 20 when he saw his family, hopefully, for the last time. He stepped on the plane and seven hours later he was standing on American soil.

An American Elite was already waiting for him. "Welcome to New York City, Mr. Kirkland."

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><p>He hated thinking back on his life in England. And he especially hated it when his family tried connecting him. He was none of their concern anymore. He was his own person. Not their son, not their brother. He was just Arthur.<p>

"Angelique!" He rubbed his temples to ease his forming headache. His brothers never failed to ruin their day. They didn't even have to be present for that. He stopped when his secretary stepped in. He sat up straight, squaring his shoulders. He couldn't show his secretary any weaknesses.

"You called, sir?" asked the girl, bowing slightly, her flush from earlier still present, although much less noticeable. This girl wasn't exactly a good secretary, being much too disorganized and air-headed. But she did her job and she seemed to like it very much. Working for an Elite must have been like a dream come true for her.

And she was nice to look at. Much better than that wrinkly old hag one of the other Elites had. Plus, her quite obvious crush on him amused Arthur to no end. It was a one-sided crush and would always stay that way, but it was entertaining. Her stammering and clumsiness when he was near annoyed him at first, but he was used to it now. And he had no reason to let her down by telling her he would never feel anything remotely romantic towards a mere secretary.

But a little playing couldn't hurt, could it? "Yes, Angelique." He stood up, beckoning her to come closer. This girl was petite, even Arthur managed to tower over her. He spared her a lazy smirk, which deepened the slight colour of her tanned cheeks. How cute. How naive. Hesitantly, Angelique walked closer. As soon as she was within reach, Arthur took her hands in his and looked into her eyes deeply. With his thumb on her wrist, he could feel her erratic pulse. A chuckled tried to make its way through his lips, but he held it back.

She looked like she would faint any minute now. "Angelique..." He leaned closer, placing a piece of paper in her palm. "Call up this gentleman for me, would you?" And he pulled away, letting go of her completely and sitting back in his chair. He looked up at her frozen secretary with a raised eyebrow. "I meant now, Angelique." Arthur turned back to his paperwork, not taking heed of the further actions of his secretary. He heard the muted sound of her footsteps and the faint click of the door, signalling her leave. He let out a quiet chuckle. Playing with her always managed to lift his mood a bit temporarily. And no, he didn't care that he was manipulating her and leading her on. He was an Elite. He could do whatever he wanted.

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><p>AN: And that's it for Chapter 3. I'm sorry for yet another biography, I promise this was the last chapter completely dedicated to one character. Alfred and Arthur will meet quite soon~

And thank you, CaptainCynical, for the idea :) I have only read the Plot of this book on Wikipedia, but it seems interesting! If you don't mind me using your idea, I might write a one-shot for that book. I might horribly mangle it though...

Thank you everyone for reading, favoriting, and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

Chess was such a thrilling and yet pointless game. All those pieces, lined up to protect their King at any cost, so easily sacrificing their lives for the reason of their demise. The pawns were useless. Easily dispatched. They were only good for bowing down to their ruler. They were born to follow, to worship, and to live their meaningless lives thinking that they actually mattered to someone. Pawns were weak.

_'Yes, they are weak_', mused the man, staring at the numerous glowing monitors in front of him. He couldn't stand ordinary people. At first, their blind trust amused him to no end, especially when one of them broke the Law and had to face the consequences. The confusion and the sheer terror on their faces was so exciting, so beautiful! But nowadays not even those wonderful expressions could chase away his all-consuming boredom. Pawns weren't exciting for long, now were they? They were insignificant.

The knights were more entertaining. The King's faithful servants, who murdered at a single breath of command. But they were too impassive for his tastes. He needed fire, determination, _emotions_. He craved those traits so he could tear them down and see utter hopelessness appear in their place.

A sudden beep of his laptop pulled him out of his daydreaming. The dark figure lifted its eyes at the screen, a large grin appearing on his face. _There he was_. The knight he was craving for. That beautiful man who was forced to suffer from the weight of his crimes pushing down on him, and yet he was so strong. He wasn't dead like the rest of the world; he glowed.

With a few click, the man zoomed in to stare at the face of the object of his fascination. And there it was, the blank mask his little sunshine always tried to force on himself to hide his crushing guilt. He had to admit, the mask was a well-crafted one, but it couldn't hide the emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes. Guilt, self-hatred, anger, ah, it was so beautiful!

"S-sir?" A trembling word came from a trembling man at the door. The man still immersed in the dark nodded without taking his eyes off his prey. "I am coming. It is best I do not make them wait for me, da?" And with a last look at those enchanting blue eyes, the man stood up and left the room, not bothering to turn his computer off. That was what Raivis was for.

_'We shall meet soon, sunflower.'_

* * *

><p>He was going to be late again, he just knew it. Damn it, couldn't they give him a break already? He was a fucking college student, he needed to sleep at night! Alfred sprinted through the park as fast as he could. They were going to be dissecting a pig's eye today, he couldn't miss that! He jumped over a bench, making the woman sitting on it scream and, by the sound of it, fall to the ground. He looked over his shoulder to shout out an apology. However, before a single sound could leave his lips, he felt the wind being knocked out of him by something hard.<p>

And then he was flying, which wasn't a bad feeling at all. Unfortunately, unlike balloons or birds or other such things, Alfred couldn't fly for long. He had to fall down eventually. Which he did, holding out a hand in front of him to lessen the pain of falling and save his nose and glasses from getting broken. He winced when his hands hit the pavement, shortly followed by his knees. He cursed loudly when his forehead hit something hard, his not so quiet "Fuck!" mixing with another one.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see a log or something under him. However, instead of the expected wooden surface, Alfred found himself staring at a pair of what he thought might have been a pair of dirty yellow caterpillars.

* * *

><p>Life was somewhat boring when you were an Elite. You had unlimited amounts of money, something a mere ordinary person would be removed for, you could buy anything you wanted, and aside from the work you did for the city, you had nothing to do. And getting some kind of job just to pass the time would be humiliating.<p>

Arthur sighed quietly. Most of his days were usually spent in boredom. Sometimes he had a little bit of excitement when he had to avoid that moronic, persistent frog, but mostly he was just walking around, for what reason, he didn't know. It wasn't like he was just going to magically find entertainment. Or a companion. As a closed off and typically silent person, Arthur had few friends, most of which he would rather call acquaintances. His only close friends, loathe as he might admitting it, were the frog, the crazy albino, and the air-headed tomato fucker. He never felt the need to befriend them or anyone else for that matter; he liked his solitude. Sometimes, however, on evenings when he was reading his beloved old romance novels, Arthur couldn't help wondering what a relationship, being in love, felt like.

He was always quick to banish such musings. He did not need or want love. He would have been content to live forever alone and die without ever experiencing the warmth of another person's pure love.

Even powerful Elite had to learn that fate could not be controlled by the will of a mere human.

At first, he felt his shoulder hit something soft yet hard. He looked up to apologize to the person he seemingly run into and was shocked to find a face rapidly approaching his own. He opened his mouth to tell the stranger to back off, but the momentum of the other threw his balance off and he fell to the ground, the stranger falling on top of him. Thankfully, he wasn't squished by the weight since the man managed to catch himself on his hands, but Arthur did feel the hard forehead connecting with his own. He let out a curse at the same time as the other.

Arthur looked up at the man on top of him, readying himself for telling the man to kindly _remove himself_ before someone saw them in such a position, but he was distracted by the face so close to his own. The man, _boy_, had a decent face, he had to admit. Nothing exceptional, but not ugly either. He looked young, much younger than Arthur, probably a secondary school student.

He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Excuse me, but could you kindly remove yourself?" It was an annoyingly cliché meeting, something out of those cheap romance books. He only needed to find this boy unbearably attractive and fall in love at first sight and they would have the perfect storybook romance. Arthur found the mere idea repulsive. Since everyone was equal and no prejudice existed, love between two people of the same gender was widely accepted. The Briton had quite a few encounters with both genders, although he did prefer males for one sole reason: they couldn't get pregnant. The last thing he wanted was to have a family.

He knew he should stop thinking about such things, lest the youngster realize the disgust on his face. It wouldn't do to cause a commotion in public; making a scene was always dangerous. Although the kid did run into him and knocked him down, making his lower back ache with a dull burn. Maybe he should have him removed for such a thing.

But then the stranger smiled, blue eyes suddenly glistening down at him, and Arthur found himself dreading the idea of destroying that lively shine in those eyes.

* * *

><p>He had never seen such things before. Dark yellow, hairy caterpillars? In October? And what was the warmth underneath him...? Alfred ripped his eyes away from the hairy things to gaze into dark green eyes narrowed in irritation. Oh. He blinked in recognition. He was lying on a person! A pissed off one at that. And the caterpillars were actually...holy jamalama, this guy had some thick eyebrows!<p>

He had pretty eyes though, Alfred had to admit. There were all sorts of green in them, from lime green to this really, really dark green. And he had very thick eyelashes for a guy now that he thought about it. Maybe it was in his genome to have so much hair on his face? Hmm, but it didn't look like he had even a bit of stubble on his cheeks or chin. He might have just shaved this morning or something. His hair was funny though. It was all scruffy and wild, like he had just ran a marathon or something. It was also a few shades lighter than Alfred's own.

All in all, he was pretty, the American decided. One could even say he was attractive. But Alfred wasn't attracted, definitely not. He didn't need a relationship, he didn't deserve a relationship, and if something went wrong with his plan, he wouldn't live long enough to have a relationship. He didn't understand why he was even thinking about relationships while straddling an almost cute guy.

He smiled sheepishly when the probably older man asked him to get off. "I'm sorry, dude. Didn't see ya there." He stood up and offered a hand to the poor fella. He hoped he wasn't hurt.

His hand was ignored though, as the guy got up by himself, dusting off his nether regions. "Maybe you should open your eyes then." The shorter male's tone was flat with a faint sarcastic and irritated tinge. That was rude.

But he didn't really want to start an argument and this pretty-eyed stranger was making him much later than he was used to. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, I would apologize to your poor, aching butt as well, but I really gotta run. See ya around!" And he ran away, leaving the irritated man behind. _'This is the closest I have ever been to a guy.'_ Alfred realized then wondered why it was so important that he had to inwardly point out this fact. And then he faintly heard the bells on campus go off in the distance, making him curse. Damn, he missed first period completely. His professor wasn't going to be happy with him. Alfred doubled his speed and sprinted towards school as fast as he could; he didn't want to miss second period as well. Tardiness was frowned upon in this society and he didn't want to make an Elite angry. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

><p><em>'Stupid git.<em>' Arthur was in a foul mood the whole day after that for some unknown reason. He never really liked his days off, preferring work over boredom, but uselessly wasting time never made him quite as mad as this meeting did. And he couldn't explain why he felt this way, which only served to irritate him further. The nerve of that git, talking to him like that! Talking about his arse so casually!

_Damn him._

Arthur wanted to forget the rude teen as soon as he could. He was obviously annoying, disrespectful, and not much to look at, really. Then why was he thinking of him? This was so puzzling. Arthur cast a longing look at his large liquor cabinet. One little drink couldn't hurt. He usually drank at least once a week anyway; it wasn't because of this strange meeting. Or the even stranger feeling that it was not their last.

* * *

><p><em>How exciting.<em>

The dark figure smiled sinisterly at the monitor, replaying the scene over and over again, focusing on the captivated face of the man on the ground. Another royal piece found his shining knight as well, it seemed. He picked up a chess piece from the table in front of him, thumbing it gently. The Queen. Such a powerful piece, yet even she gave up her life to save the King. Now, would this little Queen make the game even more entertaining or would she interfere with his chase?

As strong as the Queen was, he mused, the King had no problem sacrificing her if he felt his will was in danger. _Especially when the danger was the Queen herself._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you everyone for wishing me a Happy New Year! I'm pretty late with it, but Happy New Year to you too!

So, since one of you asked if I'm planning to have pairings in this story, the answer is yes. I did list it under Romance as well :) I could tell you the pairings I plan on having, but I'd rather you find out from the story. Still, if you guys want me to, I will tell.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur was more familiar with hangover remedies than he would have liked. Given his slight, and truly slight, habit of drinking, he was accustomed to waking up with a queasy stomach, blinding headache, and a terrible taste in his mouth. His morning after routine was cemented and sacred; he allowed nothing and nobody to disrupt it.

This morning was no different than the countless other before. He woke up from his uncomfortable slumber around eight, wincing as multiple sources of pain in his body throbbed simultaneously. Out of experience, he firmly kept his eyes shut, knowing the invasive morning light would all but burn out his retinas and send a new flame of terrible pain through his already aching head.

His head was aching unusually fiercely this morning though. In fact, his whole face seemed to send messages of pain into his brain. His mind was slowly starting to escape the fog that was the after effect of having drunk that last glass of whiskey. And with clarity came mortification. Now that he was more or less thinking clearly, he could feel that his shins were resting on something soft, while his thighs were hanging mid-air and he was lying on something terribly hard from the waist up. The next thing he noticed were the smells; the smell of dust and musk, mixing together with the smell of perfume.

He would have to open his eyes, wouldn't he? Already groaning at the thought of his senses being assaulted by the light, Arthur opened his eyes and resisted closing them out of sheer willpower. Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes to focus. His vision was immediately filled with red. Literally. What...? Pushing himself up on his elbows, Arthur could now see that the sea of red was actually a carpet. He had no red carpets at home. Looking behind himself, he could confirm what he already suspected: his legs were indeed resting on a bed while the rest of his body was lying on the cold, hard floor. He must have fallen off during the night.

So that was why his face was aching. Carefully pulling his legs off the bed and sitting up, Arthur was, to his surprise- sore. Of all things. Why would he be sore when he was just drinking home alone as usual...?

And then it hit him. Of course he wasn't home, drinking like usual! The memories of yesterday snapped back to the forefront of his mind with startling quality.

* * *

><p>Arthur wasn't the type to pine. He had had his fair share of admirers, but their affections were rarely wholeheartedly returned. And he never really had to find himself in the predicament of wanting someone who didn't want him. So no, Arthur Kirkland did not pine or daydream about anyone and especially not annoying little rascals who couldn't watch where they were going!<p>

But he was curious, that much he could admit. Curious as to why his brain suddenly shut down for a moment when the git smiled at him. Curious as to why he found himself wanting to know the boy's name later. Curious as to why he didn't want to have him removed for his insolence. Arthur prided himself in being excellent at reading people and their feelings. He would be damned if he couldn't figure out his own.

Knowing that he would only end up drinking again if he stayed home, Arthur decided to take a walk in the park, figuring that seeing the spot where they rammed into each other would help his brain recall the exact things going through it during the encounter. Donning his favorite green sweater over his white shirt and his brown shoes, he left his apartment, closing the door before his nightmare of a cat could escape.

He politely nodded at the greetings he got from his neighbor, a nice, albeit oftentimes irritating old lady, he walked down the stairs, completely ignoring the lift opening invitingly. He hated being in cramped spaces where he knew the cameras could see his every move from every angle. He much preferred the stairs with only one camera for a flight of them or so. Arthur avoided the corner with his eye out of habit. He knew cameras were usually placed there and he wasn't fond of his expressions getting recorded. Even if they were usually blank.

When he exited the building he let his feet take over, already knowing the way to the park by heart and once again let his mind wander. He flitted through his agenda for the next day, already dreading the meeting he had with his least favorite colleague. They would have to address the minor issue of a small uprising in Paris. Arthur didn't see why they needed to talk about it; they always ended up deciding removing the fools and everyone closely associated with them. That was the way things worked.

After having paused by a red light, he continued his journey. He would have to read over a few reports about the removed people of the last two weeks, sort out those who had a more serious crime, and have a Police keep an eye on their friends and family for three days. Standard procedure. Boring.

The park finally came into view and with it came a -pleasant or unpleasant he could not decide- surprise. The child was there. The blue eyed youngster was right there, sitting by a tree on the grass, Arthur felt sorry for the boy's mother for having to wash those grass stains out of the boy's jeans, and holding a flat device in his hand. Arthur recognized it as the gaming device the albino freak liked playing with under the table during meetings.

Realizing that he was standing there like an idiot and quite possibly gaping, he walked into the park with a closed off expression, already hoping that none of the three perverted idiots happened to be checking the cameras right now. They would never let him live this moment of weakness down.

"Hey there, Grumpy Brows!" a much too cheerful voice called from the general vicinity of that tree. Gritting his teeth, he pretended that the idiot was calling after someone else with a grumpy attitude. He refused to acknowledge the second part of the horrendous nickname.

His plan did not work. Ignoring him only seemed to convince the dolt that Arthur simply hadn't heard him, so he must have decided to take no risks, and stood in front of the Briton in all his grinning glory. "Hey, you are the guy I ran into, right?"

Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, since the boy waited for neither an affirmative or a denial, and simply continued talking. "I'm Alfred, Alfred F. Jones!" And the git stuck out a hand. Arthur stared at him with an unimpressed look on his face. Inside, however, he was already wondering why in the Elite's name did the boy decide to introduce himself out of the blue like that.

But he was a gentleman and outright questioning the boy without introducing himself would have been rude. He took the offered and shook it, offering no smile of his own. "Arthur Kirkland. Now what do you want?" With introductions out of the way, he could be as rude as he wanted.

The boy, no, Alfred, seemed to hesitate for a moment before shrugging, a sheepish smile replacing his sunny grin. Wait, since when did he care enough to notice the differences between the idiot's smiles? Must have been his observant nature.

"I don't actually know. I guess I wanted to apologize properly for knocking you over? I was kind of in a hurry to make it to class so I didn't have time to linger. Is your butt okay?"

And now he was teasing him. Arthur twitched at the level of familiarity Alfred displayed. They were slightly more than strangers, how dare this kid tease him? Oh, if only he knew who Arthur was...

For some reason the boy's seemingly carefree persona gave Arthur the idea that he wouldn't care.

He scoffed at Alfred. "I would appreciate if you did not inquire about the well-being of my backside in public. Now, goodbye." He turned his back on the boy and started walking right back to his apartment, ignoring whatever nonsense the annoying idiot shouted after him about how nice it was to meet him. Bollocks.

* * *

><p>Arthur groaned, letting his head fall back against the bed. Of course it was that idiot's fault. He confused him, made him have contradicting feelings. He couldn't stand being confused. In order to battle his confusion, Arthur usually resorted to either of these two things: one was getting hammered, the other...<p>

* * *

><p>"Mr. Kirkland, sir." The woman bowed her head out of respect, holding out a book for her esteemed client. "Two new entertainers have been hired since you last visited us."<p>

Arthur waved her away, already opening the book and sipping on the Scotch he was provided with. It had been a while since he last had time to visit this particular district. Experience proved that the services offered here were quite helpful when it came to ignoring feelings for a few hours.

Leaning back comfortably in his chair, he flipped through the book, seeing naked skin and tempting curves, but none of them catching his attention in particular. This one was too short, that one had too dark a skin, he didn't like the eye color of this one...

Much to his annoyance, instead of their bodies, he was mostly judging them by their hair and eye color. And he was preferring blond, blue-eyed ones, which only annoyed him further. His curiosity never let him have a break, did it? Begrudgingly he chose the one he liked the best, a semi-tall man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes.

The moment he entered the room he could see that the eyes were the wrong shade and too dull, the hair too long and too tame, and the body not muscled enough. Once again annoyed by himself, Arthur marched over to the man and pushed him down on the bed, climbing on top of him.

And finally too blue eyes and sunny smiles were the last thing on his mind.

* * *

><p>The feelings from last night crept back after his mind finished recollecting and replaying the happenings. Arthur scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair, grimacing at the greasy feeling of it. He recalled sweating a lot last night, but that was only to be expected after hours of strenuous activity. He felt dirty and itchy all over and that, coupled with his hangover, was really making him feel miserable. After deciding that shower and then a Bloody Mary sounded like a great idea, Arthur stood up, a wave of nausea hitting him, but he pushed it down. He was used to it.<p>

Casually flashing the corner and the camera that was surely there his two fingers, knowing that the frog would understand and this message was intended to him anyway, he walked into the small bathroom attached and gave himself over to a calming shower.

* * *

><p>About fifty meters away, on the roof of the one Arthur was currently having a shower in, a black clad man just stood up, stretching his aching joints, relishing in the popping sounds his shoulders and spine made. Guarding the Red Light District was one of the easiest jobs a Police could get. Ordinaries very rarely came here. They weren't as tempted to break this law as the other laws it seemed. Except for the occasional teenager entering the district out of stupidity or curiosity, shifts here were usually bloodless and quiet.<p>

Thank God for sound proof walls.

The Red Light District was essentially the place for the Elite to come to in order to relieve their urges. It was their prerogative, and theirs only. Aside from the Elite only the Police and the workers of the district were allowed to enter. And only one Police at a time, lest they were tempted to steer from their work.

The District was actually quite small, consisting of four big houses, a supermarket, and a shop selling necessities for the workers of the houses. It was surrounded by a short wall, only tall enough so that no one could peek inside. It was marked 'Elite Property' and that meant Ordinaries couldn't enter.

The man looked around one last time before stepping on the ledge and jumping down. He just enjoyed the sensation of flying for a few brief moments before holding his arms above, or rather, below now, his head and catching himself on a tree branch in a handstand. Not being able to resist, he swung himself a few times on the branch but eventually let go, landing on his feet with a quiet thump.

He pulled off his black jacket and stuffed it in his backpack, his gun following it quickly. He opened his eyes wide and pulled out his contacts, his irises losing their muddy green color and regaining their clear blue one. Lastly, he slipped on his wire-framed glasses and zipped up his bag, shouldering it.

With one last look around he jumped on the wall and dropped down on the other side. He checked the time on his watch and started walking towards the college, figuring he would get some sleep before class started.

With the shift over now, Police Number 760704 became Alfred F. Jones once again.

* * *

><p>His friends were not happy when he once again told them he wouldn't be going.<p>

It was the third time that month, they said, that he rejected them. Did he have better things to do, they asked, than hanging out with his friends? Alfred was always quick to reassure them that of course not, he loved hanging out with them, he was just really very tired that day, please understand.

He got amused looks and disapproving stares for his probably overused, but nonetheless true excuse. "Been playing games all night again, Hero?" the boys teased. Alfred laughed with them, confirming their suspicions, which was fine with him. He liked pretending he was normal when he was with his school friends. He liked pretending that he was tired because of gaming sessions and not night shifts. He liked pretending that his bag was a few pounds heavier because he carried more food on him, not because of his weapon.

He was such a liar. He felt bad for never telling his friends the truth but he knew that if he ever did, he would only get them in trouble. And they wouldn't understand. No Ordinary would ever understand. No one but those who also hated the Elite could understand him completely. Only they could see him for what he was, and that wasn't a carefree, beloved college student.

But he couldn't pretend with them today. With one last apology and a promise to make it up to them next time, Alfred was off. But he wasn't going home to sleep like he should have, because three days without sleeping was just too much. No, he had to do something much more important and considerably more dangerous than sleeping.

Sitting on his motorbike affectionately named 'Baby', Alfred pulled on his helmet and kicked the vehicle into gear. Then he was off.

Since it was a law that you were not allowed to break laws, which was over cautiousness at its finest because wasn't that what a law meant anyway?, Alfred didn't dare drive faster than the speed limit that was annoyingly sluggish as far as Alfred was concerned. He would have loved to let go and push his Baby to its limits but no. He would not break laws outright. Not yet.

He couldn't risk drawing attention to himself; keeping the place where he was going a secret was already a touchy job. He had to be thankful for his allies because without them, he would have never managed to find a place free of cameras so he could plan the rebellion in peace. No, not him, _they_. He constantly had to remind himself that he wasn't in this alone. He had others, others who hated the Elite just as much as he did. Others who wanted to restore the old world order like him.

Parking his bike near the entrance of their base, Alfred felt a smile spreading on his face. The wheels were already turning. Time was ticking for the Elite and they didn't even know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: After a few months I'm finally back with a new chapter for Picture Perfect World! Thank you all for your support in the reviews and I apologize for the wait. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too!**


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